


The Crossing

by ladysisyphus



Series: Over Hill and Under Hill [7]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 09:31:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3285326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladysisyphus/pseuds/ladysisyphus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Were some intrepid researcher and historian ever to compose a volume on the great seafaring peoples of Middle-earth, that body of work would no doubt treat hobbits, at most, as a footnote.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Crossing

Were some intrepid researcher and historian ever to compose a volume on the great seafaring peoples of Middle-earth, that body of work would no doubt treat hobbits, at most, as a footnote. This is not to say that throughout history, no hobbits had left dry land; indeed, many hobbits regularly took and even managed ferries and barges, aiding them in trade and travel, and the hobbits known as Stoors were river-folk, fishing and swimming and fashioning their livelihoods from the waters by which they made their dwellings. Bilbo himself had been on a few small pleasure-crafts, and once even a paddle-boat shaped like a duck that had taken him and his friends in circles around a pond.

None of which, however, made him the least bit more enthusiastic about being on a barge. Splashing about on a sunny summer festival day was worlds away from the open wooden craft winding its way past rocks and bends, and as Bilbo looked to what lay ahead of them, he could see that the swift-running water of the Mirkwood river -- which had been _quite_ cold enough on its own, thank you very much -- slowing into a much chillier, deeper expanse. Sodden and sullen, Bilbo wanted more than he could say to turn 'round, put their aquatic mishaps at their back, and find a way to the Lonely Mountain that wasn't so very, very wet.

But he hadn't dared raise an objection; for one, he felt the press for time as much as did anyone else around him, and for another, the look in Thorin's eyes marked him as one _not_ to be trifled with, on this matter or any other. Instead, he had wrung himself out as best he could and bravely bit down all note of complaint as he'd stepped upon the deck and even his small weight had caused the boat to sway.

"Is it--" Bilbo looked up as they passed beneath a sturdy old tree, one which had been bold enough to try growing straight out from the cliff wall. There, as the Old Took would have said, was some initiative! "Is it much further then?"

"Aye, 'tis, Master Dwarf," said the bargeman, though he favored Bilbo with a sympathetic smile. The dwarves had for the most part taken their places in the bow, but Bilbo had walked to the stern to see if it made the ride any smoother. It didn't. "And heavy as we are now, it should take us even longer, as I cannot chance the shallows of the shortest route. The river winds from here a league or so, then opens out onto the Long Lake, at which point our need for stealth shall begin. Until then, however, you and the others may move about as you like, so long as you do not capsize us."

"Oh. Sorry," Bilbo added with a shrug, though he knew from experience there was nothing to be done about the weight of dwarves. A few of the bargeman's words stuck in his craw, though, and though loath he was to correct someone who had been such a help to them, he decided it was best to clear up any misapprehensions now, before they could spread. "Ah, also ... also, not a dwarf. I mean, I can see how you'd think that, from the company I keep -- and we _are_ somewhat similar in stature, I grant -- and I've not doubt that after this long I've begun to _smell_ like them, which was rather the opposite of the initial point, but no matter -- but no. No offense taken, but I'm not."

The bargeman's eyes widened at that one, but his smile remained. "Forgive my error; I supposed you might be the rare dwarf taken to the practice of shaving."

Though he was weary to the bone, Bilbo was startled into a chuckle. "That's quite a thought, but no. Just a hobbit." When the bargeman's face shifted toward a frown, Bilbo amended, "A halfling? One of the Shire-folk?"

"Indeed, I've heard tell of you," the bargeman said, "but unless those tales have misled me, you're quite a long ways from home."

If anyone here had been misled, Bilbo thought with a shiver against the cooling breeze, their stumbled-upon smuggler was not he. "Quite a long ways," he echoed. His manners caught up to him there, and though he was more than aware of the difference in scale, he extended a hand. "Bilbo Baggins. And you are...?"

The bargeman took his right hand from the pole long enough to grasp Bilbo's in a shake that politely pretended his fingers could not have wrapped around Bilbo's entirely and hidden them from view. "Bard. Bard the Bowman, some call me."

"Boatman?" repeated Bilbo, unsure he'd heard correctly.

" _Bow_ ," said Bard. "But plain 'Bard' will suit me well."

Bilbo started to ask about the particulars of such a name as 'bowman', but the barge gave a jolt, sending him grabbing for the side. Bard chuckled, though not unkindly. "We are approaching some sharp bends, Master Hobbit," Bard said. "Perhaps you'd care to alert the others and then take a seat yourself?"

With a grateful nod, Bilbo set out, clutching the side all the way, to do just that.

 

~*~

 

"How are you feeling?"

Though the answer to Bilbo's question was written in how ashen his face was, Kíli mustered a brave smile. "Had worse," he said, leaning against his brother's shoulder, his injured leg now bound and propped before him. "And you?"

Puzzled, Bilbo frowned, until he followed Kíli's line of sight and realized that he had begun to shiver quite terribly. The day had not been warm by any measure, but it had at least had sunlight while they had traced the turns of the Forest River, such that by the time they took the final bend that brought them to the mouth, Bilbo was _almost_ dry. Almost, however, was a fair sight short of completely, and as the mists had rolled in off the lake, blotting out the sky, even the small dampness left in his clothes had begun to feel like ice upon his skin. "Oh, me, I'm fine," lied Bilbo, wishing that Thorin's fine coat hadn't been taken from them by the elves. Memories of how warm he had been beneath it only sharpened the awareness of how much now he wasn't.

"You look half-frozen," said Fíli, scooting to the side; he left his arm around his brother's shoulders, but now there was a space between them, a space one might even have described as 'hobbit-sized'. "Come on, huddle up."

Politeness demanded he refuse, but his well-being overruled it and propelled him forward without complaint, until he was blocked from the wind with the boat's hull behind him and a dwarf on either side. "Thank you," he said, tucking his knees up toward his chest.

"Of course." Despite his obviously ailing, Kíli gave a gentle elbow to Bilbo's ribs. "What kind of companions would we be if we let our burglar turn to ice, hm?"

"Ill ones indeed." Fíli gave a grave nod. He spoke in a hushed tone too, though not from weariness as did his brother, but more as simply seemed proper to the setting. The single, barrel-laden boat made for close quarters, and all the dwarves had responded by keeping their speaking low when it was only meant for few others. "Though if you wouldn't mind, Bilbo, stretching just a wee bit taller and letting your hair grow out, so my dear brother could pretend you're someone he'd _rather_ have in the middle of us?"

"Shut _up_ ," hissed Kíli, who swatted at Fíli over Bilbo's head -- a challenge Fíli was of course honor-bound to answer with his own playful bats.

"No! No fighting! I'm right here!" Bilbo exclaimed, and to his relief (and surprise), they stopped. It seemed an odd thing indeed for Fíli to say, however, until Bilbo thought back to what he'd seen while sneaking about the elvish dungeon, looking for the means and timing for their escape. "Do you ... are you talking about the lady elf who was sitting outside your cell?"

" _See_?" Kíli glared at Fíli, though with only a fraction of his usual strength behind it. "Bilbo says she's a lady too."

"I didn't say otherwise!" Fíli held his free hand to his chest with affronted innocence. "I simply pointed out that being certain is a difficult process."

Kíli rolled his eyes, though as he did so, he set his jaw in a way that had nothing to do with annoyance. Bilbo had never himself taken an arrow to the thigh, nor indeed to any other part of his body, but the thought alone was enough to make him wince, and thus he felt all sympathies for Kíli's condition. His brother's gentle teasing about the elf guard seemed to distract him well, though, so Bilbo took the opportunity to join in: "She _was_ a rather lovely elf."

Fíli spat as though he'd tasted something foul. "So skinny! And not a hair on her chin! Nor probably any other part of her, save the top of her head."

"And how would you know that?" asked Kíli. "Seen a lot of naked elves, then?"

"Hardly!" Though Bilbo didn't know how he managed it, Fíli turned his face into an even more exaggerated example of disgust. "But if they had big hairy chests and legs, wouldn't they be showing them off with pride instead of covering them all up? I bet they're bare as babes underneath, and stay all covered up for the shame of it." Bilbo felt as though he should take some umbrage at this, though he wasn't entirely sure on whose behalf.

"It is not about what's _outside_ that counts." Kíli placed a hand flat over his breast. "Fair faces may hide foul hearts, while one's inner beauty might be faint as starlight to one who looks for it during the day."

Shaking his head, Fíli snorted. "I don't know how you see much above her breastplate, inside or out."

"It's not _my_ fault your eyes got distracted on the way up."

"No hair _and_ no breasts?. I'd have a better time courting a fish, for what it would get me."

"Still in the middle, _still in the midde_ ," Bilbo reminded them almost before Fíli was done speaking, and thus he managed to stay some of the blows which otherwise would have caught him in the crossfire. As they settled down, he saw Fíli ruffle Kíli's hair, to which Kíli smiled, despite his obvious discomfort.

A niggling concern nonetheless had begun to gnaw at Bilbo's curiosity, and the more they talked, the deeper it sank its teeth, until there was a pause and Bilbo spoke up: "Is it that -- are you -- would that be a problem? If she weren't? A lady?" For all the thinking Bilbo had been doing on the particulars of his situation -- and he'd been doing quite some thinking, far more than he'd care to admit -- that this had not up to this point crossed his mind caused him some concern. It didn't matter, of course; it was all just idle speculation anyway. But he did want even his idle speculation to be correct.

There was a beat in which Fíli and Kíli traded looks over Bilbo's head, and though he could see the exchange, its meaning was lost on him. "For _us_ , yes," Fíli said. "As we two are rather partial to ladies."

"And they to us," Kíli added.

"And they to us," Fíli echoed, nodding. "One of us more so than the other -- _far_ more so than the other -- but who's keeping score?"

"Bilbo," said Kíli, "as you are closer to him, could you please kick him in the groin for me?"

"But!" Fíli raised a hand to interrupt before Bilbo could comply (though Bilbo'd had no intention of doing so). "But as we tend to be a people of many lads and few lasses, as Bofur might say, it is safe to say that no one _else_ among our kind would have a problem if she were a he-elf instead of a she-elf -- barring, of course, the sheer perversity of being drawn to a lover you'd need to gather a ladder to kiss good-night."

Kíli wrinkled up his nose in a scowl, one that disappeared into a grudging smile as Fíli ruffled his hair again, this time full into his face. "Of course," said Kíli, raking his fingers through his dark, loose strands and drawing them back, "many shield-brothers even choose to spend their lives with one another. Is that not also so for your people?"

It wasn't so at all; while it was true that hobbits were given to explore all manner of tastes and feasts in their youth, they were by and large expected to leave such behind for husbands and wives, and though some small few kept on with one another past their wedding days, such was always considered separate from, and no replacement for, proper acts in the marriage bed. When Bilbo shook his head, Fíli reacted with surprise. "For those of noble families, such as ours, to produce an heir is of course a concern, but once that's settled, all becomes a different matter."

"Why," said Kíli, his smile turning to a toothy grin, "if even, say, our _uncle_ were to find someone he--"

There might have been more to Kíli's statement, but just hearing the turn in the conversation sent a stab through Bilbo's gut so cold and sharp his whole body twisted between the brothers. Kíli stopped short, looking at Bilbo with great concern, and Fíli put a steadying hand on Bilbo's knee. "Bilbo?" asked Fíli, his voice soft.

"Ha ha, all right, you win," said Bilbo, sitting upright so he was leaning on neither of them any longer. His voice dropped low, almost to the level of the water slapping against the side of the boat; maybe they knew, maybe they didn't, maybe they were only guessing, but it didn't do to have anyone else suspect. Unless -- no, how many of them _did_ know? Or suspect? Balin, of course, Bilbo had tipped his hand there, but others? Had they _all_ been mocking him behind his back, or just these two? "There's no need to make fun."

"Make fun?" asked Kíli, and when Bilbo turned, it twisted at his heart to see such honest concern writ on Kíli's features. "We're not--"

"It's all right." Chief among Bilbo's skill set was his ability to force a smile under any circumstances, and he got the corners of his mouth upright just to let them know, no hard feelings. "Just -- I'd rather -- rather you didn't -- just leave it be, all right?"

Fíli looked from Bilbo to Kíli and back again, his eyes wide with distress. Bilbo tried to harden his heart to it -- good, now they might get a taste of how they'd made him feel. Except of course they'd meant no malice with it, and now he himself did, and what kind of a person that made him, Bilbo didn't like to think. "Bilbo," said Fíli again, leaning in close, "we're being serious."

"No, you aren't. And it's all right! It really is." Bilbo nodded his most sincere nod. Had he really been that obvious? His mind was spinning. This put so much into perspective, so much horrible perspective, to know that everyone knew. No wonder Dwalin looked upon him with such ill-concealed anger; he was so protective of Thorin no matter the circumstances. Did Óin and Glóin consider it a slight upon their distant kinsman, to have him fancied by a hobbit? Or did Thorin's royal status provide justification enough for all their hackles to be raised?

Kíli reached for him, but it was to no avail; Bilbo was already standing, using the lip of the empty barrel behind him to steady himself as he rose. "Please don't be mad," Kíli said, his voice soft.

"Not mad! Not mad." And it was true, Bilbo wasn't. He was feeling many things at the moment, but none of them were anger. In fact, most of his emotions spun around the two poles of panic and resignation. Either way, he resolved to pass off the lurch in his stomach as seasickness, should it come to an unpleasant end. "Just going ... going to go make sure that no one's angered Bard so much he drops us off at the nearest sandbar and has done with it. Hm? Hm." And with one last friendly glance to let them know he bore them no ill will (and why should he? they'd not been the ones who'd done anything wrong), he strode off to join the others and pretend as though nothing was amiss. At the least, everyone else might have the decency to pretend along with him.

 

~*~

 

"Not here," said Thorin as Bilbo began to ponder just how he was supposed to get his leg over the high side of a barrel. When Bilbo frowned, Thorin beckoned him over to a barrel nearer to the barge's port side. There was a knot-hole in the side of it, one which had been plugged with pitch at some previous time; as Bilbo watched, Thorin smacked the barrel with the side of his fist and knocked the plug free. "You've got keen eyes. I want you be our lookout as we pull into the guard station."

Bilbo glanced over at Bard, who was at the stern, counting coins from the sack they'd given him, then looked back to Thorin. Their soaking in the river had done nothing for anyone's hair, but Thorin still managed by some dwarven sorcery to look regal even half-drowned. It was frankly ridiculous. "What precisely am I looking for?" Bilbo asked.

"Some sign that we cannot trust him." Thorin leaned in, keeping his voice low. Small shards of ice sheets floated in the water around them now, and when Thorin spoke so close, Bilbo could see his words on the bitter air.

"Yes, but--" Bilbo sighed. "And what if we can't? What will we do? We'll be all in barrels, we've no idea where we are, and _I'm_ presently the most armed of our company -- which might be hilarious at some other time, but which now is simply troubling."

Despite the tense and gloomy cloud that hung around him, Thorin smiled at that, his stiff posture softening. "I've learned not to underestimate you with a blade," he said, letting his fingertips brush along Sting's hilt -- and though he couldn't feel that, he _knew_ he couldn't feel that, Bilbo felt an electricity course through him as though Thorin's fingers had landed somewhere far more intimate. "We will do what we must, with what we have at hand. But if we are to be betrayed, I should like to know as far in advance as I can."

With one last glance at the barrel, Bilbo nodded. "I'll do my best."

"That is all any of us can hope to do." With a princely turn more proper at court than here in the near-wilderness, Thorin offered his outstretched hand, palm facing upward, and Bilbo stared at it dumbly for half a moment before realizing he was intended to take it. As he placed his own hand into Thorin's, Thorin held strong, such that Bilbo wound up also grabbing Thorin's forearm with his other hand and bracing against him as he made his way into the barrel. It was an odd sort of nesting sensation, being in one wooden vessel atop another wooden vessel.

Bilbo was in fact so distracted by the arrangement and his consuming dislike of it that he did not let go of Thorin. Nor did Thorin pull away, and when Bilbo had finished his ungainly climb, Thorin leaned against the lip of the barrel, looking down inside. "Are you secure?" he asked, as though there might be something he could do about it.

Bilbo nodded. "I think so." He looked around at the others, who had more or less tucked in out of sight, and sighed. "This isn't going to be the part of the glorious quest they sing songs about, is it?"

Thorin smiled again, the sweetness of it softening his whole face. "Not unless you can think of several good rhymes for 'barrel'."

"Carol. Peril. Feral. Sterile." Bilbo thought for a moment. "Herald, if you're willing for a bit of slant--"

"All right, all right," said Thorin, cutting Bilbo off with a quiet laugh. He covered Bilbo's hand with his own, and it was a most friendly gesture, which made it all the worse that it made Bilbo's pulse thunder in his chest. Now _that_ would be something for the eventual ballad, the part where Bilbo got the entire quest thwarted because the sentries heard the hammering of his lovesick heart. "I should know better by now than to challenge your skills at doggerel."

What warmth their shared cheer had brought them was shattered by the blow of a watchman's horn. From the direction it had come, shapes began to emerge from the thick fog, those of a landing and a tall guard tower, still only yet dark shadows inside the heavy mist. Bard hissed at them to cover themselves, quickly, and Thorin hopped into his own barrel with surprising grace. Before he ducked from sight, however, he turned toward once more Bilbo. "You saw the mountain," he said, his eyes darting to where it had been, before the mists had shrouded it from their view.

"Yes," said Bilbo, nodding. He had seen it, and he had felt terror, but also wonder. Barrel and peril, indeed.

"Then remember how close we are to home." And with that, Thorin lowered himself and disappeared from sight. Bilbo did the same moments later, curling his legs up tight and keeping one eye to the knot-hole as the guard station seemed to float into view. He did not know it then, but he was about to have a long, fishy trip in which to ponder just precisely what Thorin had meant by that.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at <http://ladysisyphus.livejournal.com/880224.html>.


End file.
